The Mentoring Project Part II
by Violet-Amy
Summary: Continuation/conclusion of The Mentoring Project. Puck and Sam one day decide to make it their mission to DP each of the Unholy Trinity. They succeed. From a GKM prompt. Pairings in this part: Quinn/Finn, Sam/Puck, Sam/Puck/Quinn.


Quinn invites Finn up to her bedroom. He shouldn't be here; her mom would freak. Besides which, she's dating Sam. Everything about this is so wrong.

"You didn't really ask me over to study, did you?" Finn asks as soon as she closes the door behind him.

Quinn stands close to him—too close, close enough that if he were to glance down he'd get an unobstructed view of the cleavage that her open buttons and push-up bra reveal—and asks coyly, "What exactly do you think of me?"

"I think..." Finn takes a moment, seeming to choose his words carefully. That's good, he's learning. "I think you're a nice girl who's with the wrong boyfriend."

It's an answer she likes. "And what would the right boyfriend do? If he were here?"

"He'd...kiss you." Finn doesn't quite make it a question, but he doesn't follow it up with a kiss either. She does catch him peeking at her cleavage, though.

"Is that right?" Quinn asks in a husky whisper. She takes half a step closer, and now her breasts are just barely grazing his ribcage. She tilts her head up toward him, and really she couldn't possibly make it any easier for him.

He takes the hint—thank god—and leans down, placing a tentative kiss on her lips. Quinn doesn't let it stay tentative for long. For some reason she's just insanely turned on right now...well, obviously, or she wouldn't be doing _this_. It's so unlike her.

The kiss heats quickly, and soon Finn's big, clumsy hands are venturing under Quinn's top, in the back, toward the bra hooks. He's going slowly enough that she could easily stop him, but she doesn't. When he asks, "Can I?" she doesn't say yes, but she does moan and press her chest against him harder.

They're on the bed soon, Finn lying on top of her, fully clothed, kissing her and groping her under the unhooked but still-on bra. She feels his hardness pressing against her, right there between her legs, and she wants to...she wishes so much she could just let him, but...

It would be so wrong.

But he's _so_ hard, and she's _so _wet, and without totally meaning to she wraps her legs around him and grinds up against him.

Finn gasps and pulls away—as much as he can, anyway; her legs are pretty tight around his waist—and says, "Whoa. We should probably..."

"Yeah. We should definitely," Quinn agrees. She flips them over and, straddling his thighs, pulls his shorts and underwear down. His cock springs free and she takes it in her mouth, as if she were some kind of horny little slut. Which is exactly what she is, she thinks. The thought makes her roll her hips, rubbing against Finn's leg.

"Quinn...what..." Finn breathes hard and tries to hold still, tries to process what's going on while not processing it _too_ much, because if he really lets himself feel it he's gonna...he's gonna... "Oh god!" Right in her mouth, fuck, he's unloading right in her mouth. Oh god it's so good, but oh fuck...

Quinn swallows it like the filthy little whore she is.

"Quinn, I'm so—"

"Don't apologize," Quinn says.

"I can't believe we just...Does this mean we're together again? We can't keep doing this to Sam behind his back."

"No," Quinn agrees.

"He's...he's a really nice guy. I feel bad."

Sam is a nice guy. Too nice to deserve a cheating slut of a girlfriend. Quinn decides to do the right thing and break it off with him. And then she and Finn can start dating again, openly. Be a real, official, respectable couple again.

XOXOXO

Sam flings the Xbox controller aside in frustration—he knows it's bad when he can't even concentrate on video games. "It's been two weeks, man." Two weeks since their play date with Brittany. Sam went his whole life until recently without having sex, but now two weeks without any seems like an eternity.

If Quinn were giving him any signs of hope it would be one thing. But she canceled two of their last three dates, and at the end of the one she did go on with him she barely even let him kiss her.

"Do you think Quinn's gonna dump me for Finn?" he asks, letting his head fall back on the seat of the couch he's leaning against.

Puck sets aside his controller and shrugs. Obviously she's gonna dump him for Finn—he's only over here at Sam's house because Quinn canceled another date with him—but Puck saying so won't help anything.

"We need another plan."

"The plan is solid. Even if she does start going out with Hudson again...Dude, going out with Hudson never stopped her from letting me do her."

Sam considers this for a minute and doesn't find it reassuring. "Great. So it's just _me_ she has no interest in."

"Cheer up, man." Puck punches him in the shoulder awkwardly—they're sitting next to each other on the floor and he has to turn at a weird angle to do it.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's never gonna get laid again."

It's true that Puck's not worried that he's never gonna get laid again. Obviously. But it _has_ been two weeks, and two weeks _is_ a really long time. "You know, dude," he says carefully, "while we're waiting for our moment with Quinn, we could help each other out."

"Help each other out like..." They've already been jerking off together pretty frequently. And touching while they do so. Mostly only arms and shoulders, but still. Also, Puck's spunk seems to land on Sam more often than not, which probably isn't an accident...not every time. But this is all stuff they don't really talk about, so Sam knows Puck's talking about something else now. Something more. "You mean like at Brittany's, when she made you—"

"Dude, Brittany didn't _make_ me do anything." Like Puck takes orders from anyone. "It's not so bad. And I mean you liked it, didn't you?" Puck silently dares him to deny it.

Sam doesn't try to. "Well, yeah..." He should probably feel more reluctance at the suggestion than he does, but it's hard to be reluctant when his dick is twitching in anticipation.

"Except this time you should do it to me."

Sam stares at him, speechless. It's not that the idea bothers him. It's that, if his dick is any indication, it kind of really doesn't.

"First, I mean. Then I'll help you out."

If there were any question, really, in Sam's mind, the assurance of Puck "helping him out" would clear it right up. He turns suddenly, straddles Puck and sits on his lap, and kisses him. The kiss turns heated quickly, and they only break apart for a second, just long enough for Sam to pull both their t-shirts off.

Sam's mouth is awesome, obviously, and his chest is pretty awesome too, even if you're not especially into dudes' chests usually. Like Puck isn't, usually, but he kind of can't help touching Sam's. Maybe it has something to do with the little moans he makes every time Puck brushes over his nipples. And when he squeezes one and rolls it between his fingers he swears he can feel the dude's cock jump against his own.

And Sam seems to like his chest too, because when he eventually moves away from his lips, it's to cover his neck and chest with open, wet kisses. He works his way down, and he's not going super slowly—he doesn't seem to be intentionally teasing, and he definitely doesn't seem to be intentionally stalling—but Puck is more than ready by the time he reaches the waistband of his jeans. Sam pops the button open and Puck helpfully unzips and slides the jeans down as far as he can with Sam sitting on his legs.

Sam is the one to do the honors of pushing Puck's underwear out of the way. He pauses for just a second—he doesn't want to hesitate long enough to chicken out, but he just takes a second to really look at Puck's cock. It's huge, all stiff and standing straight up like it is. Begging for attention, almost. He wonders briefly...well, Santana took it up the ass and it didn't seem like she was in horrible pain. And he's even heard that guys have like this hidden anal G-spot that girls don't have, so...

Not that he's going to ask Puck to fuck him. He's just wondering, is all.

He carefully licks the tip and is a little surprised, actually, to discover that Puck's pre-come tastes pretty much the same as his own (which, yes, he sometimes licks off his fingers). He wonders if he should be smearing it around instead, but then remembers that, duh!, his mouth will provide all the lubrication needed.

Puck doesn't go in for sappy shit, but he's seriously half in love with Sam's mouth right now. He's not actually great at this yet, but for a first try from a straight dude...the kid has a lot of natural talent. He's enthusiastic and thorough. And that _mouth_, damn! With some practice, which Puck is totally willing to help with...

"Evans...fuck..." It's a good thing Puck can't move his hips much. If he could, he'd probably be fucking Sam's face hard...which wouldn't be bad at all, except that it would greatly diminish the chances of the two of them practicing this more often.

Neither of them hears the doorbell ring upstairs.

Quinn waits outside. There's no answer. Well, she tried. She'll just have to wait and talk to Sam tomorrow. Or call him. Or text. She turns back toward her car when she hears...that is, she's tempted to pretend she didn't just hear Sam's mom yell, "Just a minute!"...but she did, and she may as well get this over with now.

Mrs. Evans opens the door a minute later with a shower cap and plastic gloves on. (And here Quinn always thought that Sam's mother, at least, was a natural blonde!) She expresses surprise—she thought Quinn had something come up at home, which of course was the reason Quinn gave Sam for canceling their plans—but invites her in. She tells her that Sam is in the basement playing video games with Puck and that she can go on down.

There's a coffee table in the way, but she can see Sam's head from the stairway, the back of it anyway, and it's sort of popping up and down. It's kind of cute, actually—their video game probably led to a dispute that somehow devolved into wrestling.

Sam's so sweet and child-like. She almost wishes...No. He wouldn't want to be with her anyway once he found out what she's really like.

She walks a little closer and sees Puck. Puck is definitely _not_ wrestling. The look on Puck's face...it's one she's seen before, and..._holy shit! _He's getting his dick sucked. By _Sam_!

Quinn can't even say anything, she can't even make a single sound. And she can't move either, all she can do is stand and stare.

Sam is really into it now. Who knew he would _like_ having his mouth full of dick? He's sucking and moving his lips up and down Puck's shaft. He wraps his hand around the base and gives a little tug to accompany his next suck, and it makes Puck jerk his head up and gasp.

And when his head jerks up his eyes open for a second—or it would be only a second if he didn't see Quinn there...staring at them in total shock. And she locks eyes with him, and something about that eye contact...He was close anyway, but something about the way she's watching them...and the fact that Sam obviously doesn't know yet...

"Oh, fuck, Sam...Fuck, I'm gonna..." He grabs a handful of hair on either side of Sam's head and holds his friend's head still while his cock shoots hot spurts of jizz into his bro's mouth.

Puck is pulling his hair, and the first shot of come hits the back of his throat in a way that almost makes him gag, but even so Sam finds himself more turned on than not. He keeps sucking Puck through his orgasm and even after, after Puck's dick has stilled and started to soften, and after he's let go of his hair. He doesn't stop, in fact, until Puck gently pushes his head back.

He's about to say something—something dumb, like asking how it was or something—when someone else speaks first. Someone who's not Puck. A...a female voice, saying, "What the hell is going on?"

Oh shit. Shit, he knows that female voice. "Quinn!" He spins his head around and realizes only when he's looking her right in the eyes that there's a splotch of come on the side of his mouth. "I thought you...I thought your mom..."

"I haven't even broken up with you yet."

All he can say is, "Quinn!" Which he realizes he already said.

Puck is the one who says, "So you are planning on breaking up with him."

Quinn stares at Sam while she answers Puck. "Is there any reason I shouldn't break up with him after what I just saw?"

"But you were planning to anyway," Puck points out, "before you saw...what you think you just saw. Are you officially dating Finn again already?"

Quinn crosses her arms and turns her gaze to Puck. "Yes. Finn is sweet. Finn would never do this to me."

Puck tucks his dick back into his underwear and stands up, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them aside. He stands between Quinn and Sam, who's still just sitting there with his dopey deer-in-the-headlights look. Studying Quinn's face, with that totally turned-on look he's seen on her before, Puck has an epiphany. It's suddenly all so clear to him that he can't believe he didn't figure it out sooner.

He stands behind Quinn, hands on her shoulders, so he can speak softly into her ear while the two of them look at Sam. "You're right, Finn would never do such a thing. I bet you're bored of him already."

Quinn hesitates a second too long before acting offended. "That's ridiculous."

"I know you, Quinn. Just admit it. Finn only interested you as long as you were cheating on Sam with him. You date nice boys, but bad boys are the ones you want to fuck."

"I don't..."

"You totally want him now." He slides a hand down her side, down her thigh, then back up—under the skirt. He moves slowly so she can stop him if she wants. But he knows she isn't going to. His fingers tease along her panties. "You're so wet," he whispers in her ear.

"That's just because..." It's because she just watched a sex act between two hot guys—it's only natural that she's a tiny bit aroused. Plus Finn never returned the favor after she got him off, so there's some built-up tension. Sam would probably eat her out. He'd probably be really good at it if what she just witnessed is any indication.

Damn it! Puck is right. Not that she'll admit it. It doesn't matter anyway. Sam might be a bad boy, but he's also apparently a gay boy.

Puck decides to go for broke. "You probably thought Sammy here was all sweet and innocent. But you know what him and me have been doing the whole time you haven't been letting him get any?"

"Yeah, I think I just got a pretty good idea."

"Not _that_." Puck catches Sam's eye and says, "Tell her."

"Tell her what?" Puck has been talking too quietly, and Sam has been mentally freaking out too much anyway to even try to follow what he's been talking to Quinn about.

"About what we've been doing," Puck says. He adds, "With you-know-who," just so Sam won't think he's talking about the stuff just the two of them have been doing.

Sam just gives him a look like he thinks Puck is crazy. Which he totally does think, if Puck wants him to tell Quinn about their play dates with Brittany and Santana. But what else could he be talking about?

"Dude." Puck goes back to the couch and holds out his hand to pull Sam up. He pulls hard, and when Sam stumbles into him he whispers. "You gotta trust me. If you do what I say I think she's actually gonna let us." Sam looks at him skeptically so he adds, "She's gonna break up with you anyway. You may as well give my plan a shot."

So, yeah. Okay. Trusting Puck has actually worked out awesomely...up until now anyway. And at least now he doesn't really have much to lose. He looks at Quinn...he forces himself not to look away from her as he tells her, "We fucked Santana and Brittany."

"You..." Quinn looks from Sam to Puck and back to Sam. She absolutely should _not_ find it hot that her boyfriend has been cheating on her. But honestly she didn't think he had it in him.

He's not too good to be with someone like her after all.

"You each fucked both of them?" she asks breathlessly.

"We each fucked both of them at the same time." Puck stands behind her again, lets her feel his rehardened cock pressing against her. "Sammy fucked Santana's pussy while I fucked her ass." He whispers the next part because while it's true he's going for broke here, he's not crazy enough to think Quinn would be okay with Puck having already told Sam so much about her. "I fucked her ass just the way you love when I fuck yours."

"Fuck," Quinn mutters, rubbing back against him. She does love taking it in the ass. She loves the way Puck makes her feel like a filthy whore. She pictures the guys both doing Santana at the same time, and she envies the hell out of Santana.

"Sammy wants in your ass so bad," Puck tells her. "Don't you, Sammy?"

"So bad," Sam agrees. "It's like all I think about."

"Really?"

Sam can't believe that Quinn seems to like this confession. But since she does, he decides to elaborate. "It's all I think about when I jerk off. Bending you over a desk or something, lifting up your skirt and finding out you're not even wearing any panties, and then I just plow into you from behind, and, fuck, your ass is so tight..."

"And...is Puck there?" Quinn asks, her voice catching. "In your fantasy scenario?"

"Of course he's there. He's fucking your pretty mouth. I don't want you to get knocked up..." Sam stops himself just in time from adding the word _again_. "Not even in my jerk-off fantasies."

Quinn herself never worries about pregnancy in her own sex fantasies. But if they're talking about something other than fantasy now, then, yeah, mouth and ass are all she's willing to offer. Besides, even without the fear of pregnancy factoring in, the idea of letting two totally hot, totally depraved guys spitroast her like that is...well, she hadn't even considered it before, but it's now officially the hottest thing she's ever imagined.

"It's too bad your fantasy can't come true today," she says.

"It can't?" No, of course it can't. Sam can't believe he actually let himself think for a minute that it might.

"No. Because I _am_ wearing panties."

Sam has no idea what she's trying to say. Luckily Puck does. "That's easy to fix." He catches Sam's eye, looks pointedly down toward Quinn's crotch, and mouths the words "Take them off her."

Oh! Right! Sam kneels in front of her and lifts her skirt. She's wearing white cotton panties with little pink roses all over them. They'd look really innocent if they weren't soaked and reeking of her arousal. He pulls them down past her knees, and then he just can't help it—he lets the skirt fall over his head and he buries his face in her crotch, breathing in deeply.

Her juices quickly collect on his face, even though he hasn't even done anything yet really. He mouths at her mound, and she responds by widening her stance. Sam takes this as the invitation it is and licks over her slit once or twice before plunging his tongue in between her folds.

Quinn shudders deeply the first time she feels his tongue graze over her clit. She doesn't have the strength to stand while Sam's mouth is all up in her cunt. "Don't stop," she orders him just before she lowers herself to the floor.

Sam doesn't stop, not for a second, and he ends up flat on his back with Quinn on her knees, straddling his face. He can barely breathe and he couldn't care less; all he cares about is that Quinn tastes so fucking good, and the way she's moaning and riding his face while he fucks her pussy with his tongue is driving him crazy. That and the realization that she's actually going to let him fuck her ass.

Her _ass_, Jesus Christ. His hands move there instinctively. He gropes a cheek in each palm and he slowly separates them, exposing her little hole to the room. To the room and to the room's other occupant.

Puck can't see that puckered little entrance without wanting his dick inside. It won't be this time—he knows that and he's okay with it—but he can still touch. He can get her ready to take his protégé's cock if not his own. He kneels behind her—they're both straddling Sam now—and shoves two fingers in her mouth. "Suck," he orders her.

Quinn sucks. She sucks like it's a cock in her mouth, and it's not, but it's still good. She'd bite—with the way Sam's working over her pussy so good with his mouth she'd have to bite down on those fingers in her mouth soon. But she knows they won't be there long, she knows that soon they're going right up her ass.

She whines, just a little, when the fingers are yanked out of her mouth, but she knows that what's coming is even better. Puck pushes her forward forcefully. Not that he has to be forceful—Quinn is nothing if not compliant—but he knows she likes him to be rough with her.

Or maybe he doesn't know. Maybe he doesn't give a single thought to what she likes and doesn't like and only wants to use her body for his own pleasure. _Fuck_, why does that thought make her want to come harder than she ever has?

Sam knows when Puck is on top of him, of course, but he can't see anything and really doesn't know what he's doing. He only knows that it makes Quinn grind a little harder against his face. And then her position changes abruptly, she's leaning forward, and his tongue slips out of her pussy. He can't even move his head, and he can't get it back in. But he can still reach her clit, and he wants to make her come on his face so bad. He grabs hold of it between his lips and starts to suck, and he feels Quinn's thighs tremble next to the sides of his head. And then Puck moves too, and now instead of straddling Sam's ribs he's straddling his crotch, and Sam definitely doesn't want to come in his jeans just from a little contact with Puck's underwear-clad dick, but he finds himself unable to resist grinding up against it just a little.

Quinn gets a finger shoved up her ass just a second after Sam starts sucking her clit. She's such a goner, she's going to come so fucking hard. She wants to scream, she needs to scream—Puck is finger-fucking her ass so hard she can't tell if it's filling her with pleasure or pain, but Sam...Sam is giving her pure pleasure, so much she almost can't take it, and she just barely has the presence of mind to know she _can't_ scream because Sam's mom is home. She gropes around desperately for something to stifle her screams and, finding nothing, bites down on her own fist just as her orgasm hits.

She manages to limit her noises to muffled sobs around her fist, but that's the _only_ control she has over herself at this point. She's not even totally aware...she knows her hips are bucking uncontrollably and her thighs are squeezing together powerfully, but she doesn't even wonder, really, why there's a burning sensation on her forehead.

Puck shoves a second finger in when Quinn starts to come, he finger-fucks her ass even harder. She's lurching back and forth, face down on the carpet, and he's actually glad he doesn't have his dick in her mouth yet because she'd probably bite the fucker off.

Sam keeps sucking as hard as he can as his face gets drenched in Quinn's juices. He slides two fingers inside her slick walls and lets her pussy squeeze them, just like her ass is going to be squeezing his cock soon, oh fuck. His cock needs to be in her so bad, but for now the best he can do is grind it against Puck's equally hard member.

All of Quinn's muscles go limp at once when her orgasm passes. She doesn't want Sam to stop, even as oversensitive as she is suddenly, but she can't hold her position any more and she slumps forward. She's now aware of the rug burn on her forehead and the blood where she broke the skin on her own hand. Not that either one actually hurts yet—there's no analgesic quite like the chemical cocktail of a screaming (even if not literally) orgasm.

Sam finds the inability to breathe well a lot more unpleasant now that Quinn's sexy parts are no longer within reach, and he slides out from under her and Puck. Puck, however, after briefly moving to let Sam out, sees no reason to stop what's he's doing to her ass. Other than having to hold her hips up, it's way easier now, in fact, since she's so much more relaxed.

The holding her up one-handedly does get to be a pain, though, so he decides it's time to make use of his mouth. And speaking of mouths that should be made use of... "Get your pants off, Sammy. This little cock slut is gonna suck you while I finish opening her ass up for you."

"She's not a—"

"Just give me a minute..." Quinn protests. She's so weak still. And anyway maybe this is a bad idea, maybe there's still time to not let Sam _totally_ see what a slut she is...

Puck slaps her ass. He doesn't want to give her a chance to start second-guessing what they're doing—not _just_ because he hasn't had a chance to fuck her mouth yet, but because he knows if she gets started she'll just make herself miserable—and he knows the way to keep her interested is to be bossy and rough.

"Puck!" Sam has never seen him treat any of the girls they've fucked this way, and it's not cool. "What the hell, dude?"

Puck can hardly take the time now to explain what he's doing, so he slaps Quinn again and says, "She likes it. She likes being treated like a dirty whore. Tell him, whore."

And it's true, it's totally true. Quinn felt her pussy start to tingle again the second she felt the sting of Puck's palm on her ass. And now, now that Sam _really_ sees what she's like...well, she can't quite look him in the eye, but she can't deny it...she wouldn't _want_ to deny it and have Sam not use her like she wants...like she needs him to. Feeling a burning in her cheeks far hotter than the burning where Puck smacked her, she nods and mutters, "I wanna suck you."

Sam really doesn't understand what's going on, and he's pretty sure he's in way over his head. But he doesn't consider saying no, not when his cock is so hard it hurts, not when she just _said_ she wants to suck it. He quickly sheds his pants and underwear and scoots over so he's sitting in front of her. He pulls her head toward his crotch—gently, though; he doesn't want to risk actually hurting her, even a little—and, the words sounding very weird inside his own head, tells her, "Take it, then. Slut."

Fuck, oh fuck, Quinn can't believe she just assumed Sam could never give her what she craves. _Take it, slut_. His words echo in her head as she takes it, takes his cock as far back in her mouth as she can, noisily works it back into her throat, all while Puck is holding her ass open, fucking his tongue in and out of it.

God, the way Quinn is sucking him is just... He gets it finally, he thinks—not all of it, but what she's doing right now. "Fuck, Quinn. You just want me to come in your mouth, don't you?" Quinn makes a noise that sounds like agreement and sucks even harder. And, fuck, Sam was going to save it all for her ass, but if she wants a load in her mouth first, he'll give her a load in her mouth first. "Yeah? You want me to shoot my wad down your throat? You wanna swallow it down like a little whore?"

"Mmf!" It sounds a lot like _please_.

Sam leans back on his elbows. He's so close. "You're so good at that, fuck. Can't wait to swallow my load...then swallow Puck's...and take one of mine up your ass...oh _fuck_..." Oh, fuck, he's coming and it takes him by surprise somehow, like even though he knew he was going to, even though he was just talking about it, the force of it takes him totally unprepared.

He thrusts helplessly up into her mouth, all the way to the back of her throat, chanting, "Take it, take it, take it." But then she's gagging and he doesn't know if she actually likes that or not but it's too much for him, so he pushes her head off him, takes his cock in his hand and lets the last few spurts of hot come spray over her face. Dick still throbbing between his fingers, Sam takes in Quinn's lust-crazed, come-covered face as he catches his breath. "That what you wanted, baby?" He wanted to call her whore, but he just can't call her that again, not right now. Right now he's in love with her, way more than when they were dating even...if they're officially not now, which he's not totally clear on, actually.

Quinn doesn't seem to be in any state to discuss the finer points of their relationship, or lack of relationship, at the moment. She looks at him desperately and says, "I need you in my ass, Sammy. Please."

Which honestly offends Puck just a little, because he's already got his tongue lodged as far up there as it'll go and is he fucking chopped liver or something? But hey, it just proves he's the world's best sex mentor. And he still gets to fuck her mouth.

He smacks Quinn's ass again and says, "Such a greedy slut! You just had Sammy's nice thick cock in your mouth and already you're begging him to put it in your ass."

"I know," Quinn says apologetically. She really does know that guys need a little recovery time, but she just wants it...right now...so bad. She'd gladly suck till he's hard again, but she also knows that's not always a good idea so soon. "Will you help me get him hard again?"

"Of course," Puck says sympathetically. He kind of likes taunting her, it's true, but he also knows that she really does need it when she gets like this. He undoes the top button of her top. "You know, I bet after all this you've _still_ never let Sammy touch your tits."

Quinn laughs. Absurdly, Puck is right. She undoes another button and asks Sam, "Do you wanna get to second base?"

And fuck, Sam really does want to get to second base. He's fantasized so much about Quinn's tits, especially when he thought touching them would be the farthest he'd ever get with her. He stands, pulling her up with him, and pulls her top off. She's wearing a white push-up bra, with little roses to match the ones on her panties, and Sam seriously can't believe they even make underwear that's so totally sweet and totally hot at the same time—like, whoever came up with such a thing is a fucking genius, and her tits look so amazing in that thing.

But not as amazing as they probably look _out _of that thing, he thinks, and he licks over the top of her cleavage as he reaches around behind her to undo the hooks. Quinn shrugs the bra off as soon as it's unfastened, and, _fuck yes,_ her tits look good out of it. Sam takes one in each hand, he buries his face between them, he sucks on one nipple, then the other.

Puck maneuvers the two of them onto the couch. Quinn sits on Sam's lap, straddles him, positions herself _just so_, so that his cock, well on its way to full hardness again already, is snuggled right between her two wet lips. "Fuck," Sam mutters around the nipple in his mouth.

Puck has as much of a hard-on for Quinn's tits as the next guy (the next guy being Sam in this case), and there's no way he's not getting in on this. He sits on Sam's lap too, right behind her so his erection is up against her ass, and gropes her chest right along with Sam.

But Sam's the one they're supposed to be helping here, he remembers. Puck gets off his lap and moves over next to him instead. He kisses up his neck and whispers to him, "I got her ass all ready for you. You won't believe how tight she is for such a little whore." Sam moans and leans into Puck as he sucks at the pulse point on his neck.

"I want it so bad, Sam," Quinn says, pressing her chest harder into his groping hands. "I want _you _so bad. I want you to bend me over—just like in your fantasy—just bend me over and give it to me hard." She's grinding against him now—he's totally hard again, and she has to be careful not to grind in a way that lets his dick actually inside her pussy. Though she can't help thinking that if it went in _accidentally_ it would feel _so good._

"Yeah? You want me to give it to you in the ass? What else do you want?"

"I..." Shit, does he know what she was just thinking?

"You want me to spank your ass? Huh? You seemed to like when Puck did that."

"Oh, god." Not what she was thinking, but even better. "I'd like that so much."

Before Quinn even realizes he's doing it, Sam's got her on her knees, facing and bent over the back of the couch. He flips her skirt up onto her back and says, "You little slut! You don't even have any panties on."

And fuck, she needs it so bad, and she doesn't know if she's supposed to say anything, like if they're doing a role play and she has a line, or...And then there's a cracking noise and a stinging sensation on her butt cheek, and she yelps in surprise and arousal.

Shit! Sam didn't want to really hurt her. Also now he's a little worried about the possibility of his mother having heard Quinn's cry. It probably wasn't actually as loud as it sounded to him, but he's not going to risk doing it again. Even if watching her pale skin turn bright pink at the point of impact turns him on way more than he ever would have guessed.

Quinn wiggles her ass, all needy. "Again, Sam? Please?"

"No." Quinn whines but he cuts her off. "You're getting my cock now."

Quinn sighs, she actually sighs with relief. _Finally_. She spreads her legs wider and pushes her ass up in the air as much as she can.

Puck realizes that most of his spit from when he rimmed her has probably dried. And he doesn't think the Evanses likely keep lube lying around in their basement, and he doesn't want to interrupt or suggest within Quinn's hearing that Sam doesn't know what he's doing. He says, "Just a second, dude," and before anyone can object he wraps his mouth around Sam's dick and coats it in as much spit as he can.

Sam stares down at him, stunned. He doesn't _mind_, exactly, he's just...stunned. Puck manages to convey through pantomime the concepts of _spit_ and _asshole_—thank god Quinn can't see them—and Sam finally gets it. He presses his lips to Quinn's entrance and coats her quickly but thoroughly.

And he's so glad Puck reminded him to take this precaution because even with it, and even after Puck rimming and fingering her, he ass feels so impossibly tight as he slides in. He goes as slow as he can, and he asks her now and then if she's okay and she says she is, but still he has no idea how it can not be hurting her. He really, really hopes she's being honest when she says it isn't, because it's the best thing _he's_ felt ever.

"Harder, Sam. _Please_."

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

"It's not like I'm a blushing virgin on my marriage bed. I'm a whore, remember?"

Sam stills completely. "You're not _really_," he says. Up until now he thought the whole calling-Quinn-a-whore thing was like a game. Now he's not sure.

Quinn panics. The last thing she wants right now is for Sam to stop, and the second-to-last thing she wants is for him to try to convince her she's actually a good girl. "But I like it when you say that I am."

"So...it's a game?"

"Yeah," she agrees quickly. "But it's a game I need to play to get off, so..."

"Okay," Sam agrees, and he hopes he's agreeing because he really believes her and not just because he wants to believe her because he doesn't want to stop fucking her. "But you'll tell me if it hurts? For real?"

"I promise," Quinn says quickly. Honestly she can't always tell the difference between pleasure and pain, they're so entwined in her mind. But she will tell him for sure if he hurts her in a way she doesn't like. "Now _please_ call me a whore and _fuck my ass._"

"God, you really are a slut," Puck says, walking around behind the couch. He grabs her by the hair and pulls her head up. "I bet one cock isn't even enough for you. I bet you wanna get fucked in the mouth while you're getting fucked in the ass."

"So bad," Quinn agrees. She opens her mouth and lets Puck unceremoniously shove his dick into it.

Sam still tries to take it easy on Quinn. But his body keeps telling him to fuck her harder, and she's not giving the slightest indication of discomfort, and soon he's satisfied that he was worried for nothing and he lets go. He grips her hips tight and slams his cock into her ass again and again and again.

Puck is keeping up a steady stream of dirty talk—what a slut Quinn is, how she can never get enough cock—and Quinn is responding to both of them enthusiastically if, by necessity, nonverbally, so all Sam has to do is rhythmically take all the pleasure from the gorgeous girl that she so wants to give him.

Puck, too, establishes a rhythm: he fucks into Quinn's mouth opposite every one of Sam's thrusts into her ass. And Quinn loves it, she loves that she can give up all control over her own body and be completely at these two guys' mercy.

Girls aren't supposed to be able to climax without direct clitoral stimulation, Quinn read that somewhere, but she's done it before and she's going to do it again, really soon. She feels that tightening in her gut, she feels all her muscles tense up, and maybe that's what throws the guys' fucking pattern off, but now they're not fucking into her alternatingly, they're fucking into her simultaneously, Sam slamming into her ass at the exact moment Puck slams into her mouth, and it's too much and she comes undone.

She grabs on tight to Puck's hips and uses his cock—which she manages to suck on without biting—to muffle her cries as the pleasure courses through her and causes her muscles to constrict and release, constrict and release...

Nowhere is the constrict-and-release more pronounced than inside her ass. Once it starts there's no way Sam could hold off his own orgasm if he wanted to. "Oh god, take my come, slut!" he tells her as his cock surges forward and deposits his load deep inside her ass.

"Stuffed full of come," Puck adds as he unloads in her mouth, making her gag. "Such a slut for it, fuck."

Puck is the last one to finish coming. Quinn lets his cock fall out of her mouth and swallows the last glob of jizz he shot into her mouth. She doesn't get up or look at either of the guys, she just lowers her head, upper body dangling over the back of the couch.

Sam lets his cock out of her ass and rubs her back. "You okay?" he asks.

"I'm awesome." She's basking in that post-orgasmic bliss, and she doesn't want to ruin it with talking.

Quinn doesn't look like she could possibly be comfortable, so Sam pulls her back onto the couch. She feels like she's made of jello; the best he can do with her is lie on his back and lay her on top of himself. He whispers in her ear—for some reason he really doesn't want Puck to hear—"I love you, Quinn."

But he doesn't, Quinn knows that. People say all kinds of crazy things post-orgasm. She doesn't even bother contradicting him, just makes a noncommittal "mm" noise and lets herself doze a little.

When she wakes up Sam is brushing the hair off her face and kissing her forehead. "How in the world did you get this?" he asks, kissing near the rug burn.

Quinn winces—the analgesic effect has worn off—and replies, "Makeup will cover it." She looks around the room. "Did Puck leave?"

"Yeah. I think he wanted to let us be able to talk in private."

Shit. Definitely time to go. Quinn gets up and looks around for her clothes. "I'd rather not," she says.

Oh! Sam assumed she _would_ want to. But maybe she just doesn't want to talk about the whole slut game. Sam's okay with not talking about that. Not right now anyway; they should probably talk about it at some point. "Okay, but I mean...You're not really dating Finn again, are you? Or I mean, if you are then you're gonna break up with him?"

Quinn is struggling to rehook her bra. That is, she's not struggling _that_ much, it's not like she doesn't know how to dress herself, but Sam is there behind her helping with it. She doesn't look at him as she answers, "Why would I break up with Finn?"

"Why would you...!? So you and me can stay together. Quinn, we're awesome together!"

"_That_ was fun, but it doesn't make us a good couple." She puts her top back on and tries to remember where she left her panties.

"But..."

Quinn looks him in the eye finally. She can't believe that he really doesn't get it. "You and I, we're not relationship people. We're both cheaters, for one thing." _And whores, for another_, she doesn't add out loud. "People like us don't make for happy couples."

"But...but what? You think you'll be happy with Finn?"

No, she doesn't think being with Finn will make her happy. She hopes that being with Finn will make her good. "I think...that is none of your concern." She locates her underwear and pulls them back on under her skirt. She slips her sandals back on, and she knows she really should do more about the way she must look, but she feels like she has to get out of here right away. She kisses Sam on the cheek and says, "But hey, I really had a good time. No one can know about this obviously, but..." She gives him a smile, which he doesn't return. "So anyway, I'll see you tomorrow at school." And she runs up the basement stairs, straightening her hair with her fingers.


End file.
